


Pain and Pleasure

by HiddenDirector



Series: Transformers Prime: Course of the War [1]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Pain Kink, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:44:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2337356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenDirector/pseuds/HiddenDirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of "Operation: Breakdown", said soldier goes to the medbay expecting a frantic, at least worrisome, Knockout.  What he does get, however, is far from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pain and Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Transformers Prime, Knockout, Breakdown, or anything else associated with the series or franchise. They belong to Takara, Hasbro, and The Hub. Don’t sue me.
> 
> WARNING: This is rated NC-17. That means it’s sticky and sexy and full of robot sex.
> 
> Please review this if you read it, I do like to hear from you guys and being as this is my first Prime fic I want to make sure I captured Breakdown and Knockout well enough. Thank you!

Breakdown limped and stumbled his way to the medical bay, not looking at any of the other ‘Cons he passed as he went. They all stared at his damaged state, just short of leaking energon all over the corridor floor. It was true; he managed to convince Megatron that he had escaped those humans on his own, and managed to do so without mentioning Starscream’s treachery. It didn’t take much on his part, anyway. All he had to do was show up and Megatron stared him down for what seemed like an eternity, and then waved him off as if nothing had happened. As long as this embarrassment was never brought up again, it was unlikely their mighty lord would even bother to recall it later.

What the large mech most dreaded was facing Knockout. How worried had he been upon discovering his assistant hadn’t returned from his mission? What would he say when he discovered not only his damage internal, but his missing optic? This was the first major catastrophe to occur since Breakdown turned against the Autobots to join Decepticon ranks. Would he think any less of Breakdown for having let a bunch of squishy humans do this to him?

He paused outside of the medical bay door, taking a breath and straightening as much as he could. His pain receptors were still deactivated, but his damaged systems could only go so far even if he couldn’t feel them. After a moment he pushed the button to open the door. It slid open easily to show his partner standing at one of the consoles, back to the door, hand on his hip, datapad in the other hand.

Knockout didn’t even turn around at first. “There you are, Breakdown. I’ve been wondering where in the world you got to. I haven’t gotten out of this bay since you left, I have so much…” he trailed off as he finally turned to face Breakdown.

The large blue mech shifted a bit uncomfortably, waiting for it. He was surprised to know that Knockout essentially hadn’t even noticed he was gone, let alone that he was in danger. However, now that he saw the damage it was only a matter of time before he started to fret. “I… uh… I kinda got sidetracked.”

Knockout didn’t say anything. He took three easy, long strides to stand in front of his partner, optics running across the dented and damaged exterior, and finally resting upon the missing eye. He reached up and grasped Breakdown’s helm, drawing him down closer so that their faceplates were inches apart.

Breakdown stared back at him, looking for the worry and care he’d been expecting. However, what he saw wasn’t either of those. Something sparked in Knockout’s optics that he’d seen before, something he was certainly not expecting to see under these circumstances.

The street car purred as he next spoke. “My dear Breakdown, what _have_ you gotten yourself into?” He was touching the peeled back metal of his faceplate where the missing optic was torn out of its place. “This most certainly doesn’t look like Autobot work. No, they’re far too squeamish for such a display. This isn’t the chance loss of an optical receiver during battle, this has been…” he took a shuddery breath, though what was displayed in that breath wasn’t disgust or surprise, it was something carnal, “… _torn_ from your helm. Almost surgically removed. Who has such knowledge and ability as to be able to do such a task? Well, besides _me_.”

His assistant cleared his throat components, putting his hands on Knockout’s shoulders and pushing him back. “Let’s just say they’re the last people I would have ever expected.” He wanted to point out that this was also the last way he’d expected his cherry medic to react. He held his glossa, though.

“Hmm…” Knockout didn’t seem satisfied with this answer, but he didn’t ask for elaboration. He instead put a servo to his chin, tilting his head as his hip jutted out naturally. “You know, you’re not reacting quite how I would expect.”

Breakdown blinked at him. That was what _he_ was thinking.

“That eye should be _excruciating_.” It was disconcerting how lovingly he purred the word ‘excruciating’, as if he were speaking words of love and fancy.

“Yeah, they… ah… deactivated my pain receptors.”

“They _what_?!” For the first time since Breakdown entered the office, Knockout finally sounded horrified. It wasn’t, however, over what he was hoping for. “They can’t do that! Come here!”

Before Breakdown could react, his partner yanked him over to the slab in the middle of the bay and shoved him onto it. The door slid closed behind him, cutting off his method of escape. He wouldn’t usually run from anything, but Knockout was _not_ being rational at the moment.

“Now, lie still. I’ll get those receptors running again in no time.” Knockout reached over to the console he had been working at before, keeping one hand on Breakdown’s chestplate to keep him in place, and picked up a cord. Since he only had one hand free, the medic held his datapad between his thighs, plugging the cord into it with his free hand.

“Uh, Knockout, as much as I appreciate the concern over my receptors, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Could you at least fix up the rest of me first?”

Knockout looked at him like he had lost his processor. “Why on Cybertron would I want to do that?” he asked as if it were the most bizarre suggestion he’d ever heard. Without waiting for a response, he shoved the other end of the cord into the joint between his assistant’s neck and shoulder. “Now, tell me when you feel it…” he purred, tapping at the pad he held.

Breakdown just stared at him. His medic seemed to be the one who had gone mad. He was seriously going to reactivate his receptors in his current sta-

“GAAAAAH!!!”

Breakdown’s right hand flew up to where his optic used to be, feeling as if he had just been impaled by a large, sharp piece of metal through that concentrated area. The rest of him, especially where MECH had opened him up, hurt as well, but that was the worst. All of the feelings of pain from having his helm peeled back and eye torn out that were blocked by the deactivation of his pain receptors all hit him at once. His other hand grabbed Knockout’s arm, the effeminate mech staring at him with fascination and, disturbingly, want.

“Turn it back off, Knockout!” he yelled at the medic, struggling to keep his own vocals under control. “Slaggit, turn them _off_!”

Knockout, however, tore the cord from his neck, which didn’t feel any better, and discarded it and the pad to the other side of the bay. “Oops…” he purred, leaning forward so that his faceplate was once again inches from Breakdown’s. He ignored the hand squeezing his arm and licked his lips with his glossa, grasping the limb that covered Breakdown’s missing eye and pulling it away roughly. It was one of the things many ‘Cons forgot about the effeminate medic: he was much stronger than he looked. “Looks like you’ll have to bare the pain, my dear. Oh, however will you survive?”

“Fraggit, Knockout!” Breakdown didn’t feel like playing any of his games. He had come to the medical bay expecting a concerned, possibly mildly panicking medic to greet him. He’d let his feelings for the sports car cloud his judgment; cause him to forget who he was dealing with. Knockout wasn’t delicate in any way, no matter what many of the ‘Cons thought or said about him. He was arguably the most sadistic member of Decepticons, the only one more so being Megatron himself. He derived pleasure from the pain of others, though unlike the mighty lord Megatron, Knockout couldn’t take pain very well in turn.

Knowing this, Breakdown squeezed Knockout’s arm as hard as he could, trying to discourage him from further acting on his twisted fetish. The medic hissed lashing back. His claws dug into Breakdown’s peeled back faceplate. “Let go!” he demanded.

Breakdown howled and finally managed to toss the smaller mech from himself, feeling no sympathy or guilt at the loud _clang_ that resounded through the medical bay as Knockout impacted the metal floor. He sat up and swung his legs off the slab, ready to knock his partner out cold if he had to. Pain still coursed through his helm, especially when he stood, and pulsed in his chestplate, but it was now clouded by how enraged he felt that the mech he fell for was purposefully causing him excruciating pain.

Knockout sat up, rubbing his helm and glaring at the large mech over him. He refused to be overcome, to let another mech, a _bigger_ mech, better him. The fact that he could practically feel Breakdown’s pain from where he sat on the floor, so great that it was, only served to further turn him on.

Breakdown reached down for the other mech but was slowed down by the fact that every part of him was aching. Knockout easily ducked away from the assault and bent into a crouch, launching himself onto his assistant and knocking them over.

For a while, they struggled and rolled and tossed each other around. They knocked over tables and dented computer terminals. Breakdown was trying desperately to knock the medic out, while Knockout was using his intimate knowledge of the larger mech’s systems to work his servos into all the right places. He knew every one of the blue mech’s pleasure point, and he was determined to exploit them all. Pleasure overriding pain was his greatest hope to regain the upper hand.

It may have worked, too, if Breakdown didn’t finally get the upper hand by slamming him particularly hard into the metal floor. Knockout’s optics went wide for a moment before rolling back in his helm and his entire body went limp, out cold.

Breakdown leaned back, sighing. He had gotten worried for a minute there. He was starting to get turned on by Knockout’s expert touches. The last thing he needed was for the medic to catch him in a bout of masochism. He’d never live it down. He stood up and made his way over to where the datapad had been discarded. He’d deactivate his pain sensors again then wait for Knockout to come to again. Hopefully when he regained consciousness he’d have more control over himself and his sick libido and they could get him fixed up.

He was just reaching down for the pad when something hit him between the shoulders, sending shockwaves of electricity through his systems. He managed to turn enough to realize Knockout had hit him with his electric prod. In exactly the right spot, apparently, because he didn’t lose consciousness, but instead fell back against the wall into a sitting position and found himself paralyzed.

Knockout knelt down in front of him, chuckling as he leaned on the prod. “Now, now, dear Breakdown. Did you really fall for that? I’m a medic, I know the _best_ way to fake stasis lock. You should have checked to make sure I wasn’t faking it.”

“Fraggit, Knockout…” was all Breakdown could manage. Unable to move he had to now rely solely on his anger to continue distracting himself from the pain.

“Come now, darling,” the medic all but whispered, straddling the helpless mech and running his hands across the broad chestplate. He only ever called Breakdown ‘darling’ when he absolutely _needed_ it. “I won’t tell you I’m not going to hurt you, because you know that would be a lie,” he muttered, leaning forward and nipping at Breakdown’s neck wires. “However, that doesn’t mean I won’t make it feel good…”

Breakdown shuddered despite himself. The one thing Knockout was better at causing than pain was pleasure. He had plenty of experience with it, being as he rarely spent a night in his own berth.

Skilled dentals and lips nipped and kissed up his neck and across his faceplate until they reached Breakdown’s own mouth. He bit the larger mech’s bottom lip, sucking on it. Breakdown moaned, partially from the pleasure that was overwhelming not only his pain but his anger as well, but also from frustration of not being able to grasp the medic and take control of the situation. He wasn’t used to being helpless, and being so twice in one day was driving him crazy.

“Ah!” Breakdown yelped in surprise when a hand worked its way between them and grasped his pelvic plating. Well, this was certainly a better experience than earlier, anyway. He eagerly kissed his partner back, sliding the one thing he still had control of, his glossa, between panting lips. He occasionally hissed in pain as Knockout’s other hand explored all of his injured parts, scraping across his damaged chestplate as the hand on his pelvic plate dug into the sensitive wires hidden in the join between it and his thighs. He’d never felt such a mix of pain and pleasure before. Every other time they’d interfaced Knockout had allowed him full control. He admitted to being at least a little selfish, but still tried to make sure they both overloaded at roughly the same time.

Speaking of the dirty deed, Knockout bit down on Breakdown’s glossa playfully, though still hard enough to illicit a painful gasp from him. He began sucking on it while his hands explored the begrudgingly compliant chassis beneath him. Finally, one of the servos buried in his pelvic joint found the proper wire, because Breakdown’s plating sprung open with a groan, bringing forth his thick plug. It managed to spring forth with such enthusiasm that it poked Knockout in the aft, causing the smaller mech to start and chuckle.

“Well, well, darling…” he purred, servos wrapping around the throbbing member and pumping it as his partner let out something halfway between a growl and a moan. “For somebot who fought me over this, you’re certainly more than just willing, you’re downright anxious…” He kissed Breakdown on the lips once more before kissing back down, nipping and licking down his neck, chestplate, stomach, and finally running his glossa down the length of the pulsing appendage between his legs. He kissed and nipped at it teasingly, stroking it with his servos as he pleasured it. The plug responded with a throb, causing Breakdown to swear under his breath at the delicious torture.

The larger mech watched as his medic finally wrapped his lips around the plug and plunged it to the hilt down his throat, aft swaying in the air provocatively with every gulp of the large member.

“Slag …” the blue mech managed, taking deep breaths. He’d started to notice the feeling coming back to his limbs again, but couldn’t yet move them very far. So he allowed Knockout to do as he pleased while he regained control of his body. Well, most of it. His plug was completely at the mercy of the sultry metal sadist. “You’re gonna make me overload...”

At those words, Knockout released the pulsing plug from his mouth. Breakdown groaned in frustration at the loss. He wouldn’t have objected to exploding his lubricant down the other mech’s throat. It was, after all, how he’d first ‘faced him. “Oh, that wouldn’t do at all…” he murmured, crawling back up to straddle his hips again, plug once again throbbing against his aft. “I want… no, I _need_ you inside of me…” He ran his hands up his own thighs slowly, petting his own pelvic plating. “I want to ride you so hard you feel it in every one of your damaged systems… I want you to hurt so bad that you feel good…” His pelvic plating retracted, bringing forth his own hard plug and revealing his tight, needy port. The sensitive wires that lined the tubes inside of his port, Breakdown knew, were pulsing just as badly for his plug as vice versa.

“Then fraggit, Knockout, ride my slagging plug already!” the larger mech snapped. He would have given anything just for the mobility to grasp those curvy hips and slam his partner’s aft down upon his plug already.

“Nuh-uh-uh…” Knockout waved his finger in front of Breakdown’s face with a ‘tsk’ sound. “So impatient. We’re doing this _my_ way tonight, remember?” He lowered his hips just enough to work the tip of Breakdown’s plug into his tight port. He moaned and moved his hips around, rolling the tip inside of him. Breakdown grit his dentals and prayed to Primus for the ability to just buck his hips up and deeper.

Primus answered, but in a completely different way. He still had, for the most part, complete immobility. However, Knockout fulfilled his promise to ride him hard and pushed his hips all the way down on his thick member, burying it to the hilt in his port tubing. The walls of the tubes pulsed in time with the plug invading them, causing him to cry out at his own assault. He sat upon the large invader for a moment, shuddering. After a moment he finally began to move his port up and down upon the offending member, slowly at first but beginning to pick up the pace.

Breakdown panted and smirked. “That the best you’ve got?” he mocked, discovering he could at least move his arms a foot now. Soon… very soon…

Knockout grit his dentals. How dare he mock _him_? Did he forget who was in control now? Who did he think he was? “I’ll show you…” he growled, grasping the other mech’s shoulders. He used the leverage to pull and push himself upon his plug with more force, adding the bonus of jarring Breakdown’s damaged chestplate and systems within it with every push. He could try to hide it all he wanted, but Knockout could see the gorgeous pain every time. And it only served to make him hotter.

Breakdown tested his servos and arms for a moment, and then grinned through the pleasure and pain. He then surprised his seducer by suddenly grabbing his hips and pulling him off of his plug and throwing him onto the cold, metal floor. Knockout landed on his side, watching in shock as Breakdown leaned away from the wall, turning a few joints to loosen them again. “W-wait! How did you…?” he yelped.

“Surprised? You shouldn’t be. You should know a low enough charge on that prod of yours wears off after a while. Or were you thinking too hard with your aft to remember that?” Breakdown grabbed the surprised medic and turned him over onto his front. “You promised to ride me so hard it hurt. That was nothing. I’ll ‘face you so hard we’ll _both_ hurt.”

Knockout tried to object, but he was cut off as Breakdown’s thick plug forced its way into his port roughly. This wasn’t a side of Breakdown he’d ever seen before. The larger mech was usually very gentle on the berth, despite his preference toward rough-and-tumble on the field. He suspected it was still some small part of his Autobot programming still prevailing in his processor. But there was no sign of that lovable traitor here.

He cried out and reached back to grasp on of the hands on his hips. He _hated_ feeling any kind of pain. Especially when that pain was caused by somebot so much larger than himself. Hated feeling helpless or weak. And at the moment, with Breakdown ‘facing him with every bit of force he could muster, he felt all of the above. How did this get turned around so easily? The large, blue mech was right; he’d gotten sloppy and made a stupid mistake. But he hadn’t wanted to ride an unconscious mech. There was no fun or enjoyment in that.

His thoughts were cut off by another particularly hard slam of the plug within him. “Sla-! Ungh! Aaaah!” He couldn’t control his vocals anymore, a new sound coming out with every thrust.

Breakdown watched the medic as he forced himself on him and tried to drive out the guilty, almost dirty feeling he had when he saw how much pain he was causing him. It wasn’t fair. Why could Knockout easily treat hurting Breakdown as horrifically as he did as if it were nothing, as if it were normal, when Breakdown couldn’t hurt him without feeling like slag about it? He could tell Knockout was still enjoying it, but not as much as before. He tried to convince himself that this was only fair, the medic hurt him and now he was just giving back what he had gotten. But it still felt wrong. He thrust so hard into the other mech that his damaged systems wracked with pain and he had to grit his teeth to try and ignore it. But he couldn’t block out the pained sound his partner made.

Knockout’s entire chassis shook with that last thrust. He was no stranger to mechs who liked to play rough, but this was almost surpassing what he endured from Lord Megatron’s sexual assaults. The worst part was that he wasn’t even sure what had come over Breakdown, what had him so revved that he had to take it out like this. Surely it couldn’t have been Knockout’s sadistic playing. He knew how the medic was, about his disturbing yet erotic quirks. He had to have known what was going to happen when he came into the medical bay. He screamed out again as their pelvises once again clashed painfully hard. He didn’t know how much more he could endure.

And Breakdown didn’t know how much longer he could convince himself that there was nothing wrong with this. He leaned over the bent-over mech under him and saw the pain and embarrassment on his faceplate. That was it. He couldn’t do it anymore. This was _wrong_. What was he thinking?

Knockout almost yelped in surprise when the powerful arms wrapped around his waist and hauled him up. Breakdown pulled the smaller mech up so that he was sitting hilt-deep on his plug with his back to him. The medic looked back at his partner, who moved one hand up to gently grasp his chin and tilt his faceplate up, kissing him. Knockout made a surprise sound but didn’t object. Anything that wasn’t the humiliating assault he was enduring before was an improvement. Breakdown’s other arm looped under one of his legs, lifting him so that the thick member inside him was now only halfway inside.

The medic moaned, knowing this position well. It seemed Breakdown had finally decided to end the torture and return to his usual habit of doing what could only be described as, though no Decepticon would ever admit they were capable of such an act, making love. He thrust his hips up, hard and quick but not as forcefully this time, burying his plug inside his partner once again. This time there was no pain, only the sweet pleasure of wires and sensitive appendages creating friction with each other. Knockout and Breakdown released each other’s lips, one of the medic’s arms moving up and over their shoulders behind him to wrap around his partner’s thick neck. They panted together as he continued to thrust up into him, not saying anything for the first few minutes of pleasure.

It was Breakdown who spoke, good eye scanning the pretty features of his partner. “Slaggit, babe, I’m sorry…” he muttered.

“Shhh…” the medic whispered, not bothering to point out that it was he who was the one whose sick fetish caused the problem. “I know…”

The larger mech went quiet again, kissing the sensitive wires of Knockout’s neck. The other mech gasped, grasping his own plug pumping it in time with the thrusting inside of him. Breakdown’s lips travelled back up and found his again, and they locked their mouths together, glossas wrestling.

Breakdown was the first to overload. He grunted against the medic’s mouth, refusing to let go of it, as he shoved his plug in once more. Lubricant exploded from the end of his plug, filling every crevice inside Knockout’s port and filling him up. After a few moments of hard squirting, Knockout finally let go and cried out, his own lubricant arching into the air as he arched his back, splattering them, his still gripping hand, and the floor with the sticky blue substance.

When they were both spent and expended, they collapsed upon the floor a sticky yet satisfied mass of limbs. Knockout turned himself over and laid his helm upon Breakdown’s chestplate, sighing happily. When he next moved, though, he cringed. His servos gingerly touched his aft and dripping port, sulking. “Primus, Breakdown, I’m going to be feeling that little display of dominance of yours for weeks.”

Breakdown pushed himself up on his elbow, ignoring his own screaming systems. They weren’t important right now, and Knockout would repair them when he was ready. “I said I was sorry. You kinda caught me by surprise when I got here. I was expecting some concern.”

Knockout looked at him incredulously. “Concern? My dear Breakdown, why would I be? In all the centuries I’ve known you, I’ve never once doubted your ability to return battered and broken but still ready for the next fight.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never reacted like, well, _that_ before.”

The medic thought for a moment. Breakdown was right, that was the first time he’d ever uninhibitedly acted on his lust for pain with the larger mech. He usually at least waited to repair him first. This was different, though. “You’ve never sustained such a great injury before,” he pointed out, reaching up and touching his partner’s missing eye again. Breakdown flinched, but this time he was gentle and avoided hurting it more than necessary.

“So if I wanna avoid feeling like slag again, I should avoid coming to you with overwhelming injuries.”

“Don’t even joke like that!” Knockout snapped, sitting up fully. He was glaring at the larger mech. “You’re _my_ assistant! _My_ partner! I won’t let someone else drive you from me!”

Breakdown blinked in surprise, if just with his good eye. “Knockout…”

The medic stared back, and then just shook his head, looking frustrated. At what, Breakdown couldn’t say. “Just… lay back down.” He pushed the other mech back down on his back, once again laying his head upon him, wrapped in Breakdown’s left arm. “I’m too tired to fix you now. We’ll rest first, and then I’ll work on getting you a new eye.”

Breakdown was about to say something, but stopped himself. Knockout had never acted that way before, as he did when the blue mech joked that he wouldn’t go to him when gravely injured. ‘You’re _my_ assistant! _My_ partner!’ What was that about? He decided against it, though, and did as Knockout said. He’d inquire about it some other time. Now, he was sore and tired, and satisfied with just having his partner recharging in his arms.


End file.
